


As We Stare Down at the Canyon Below

by Annie_Eliza



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Acceptance, Angst, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Boy Melodrama "BM" Scene, Brotherly Love, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Coming Out, Dean isn’t as dense about his sexuality as he pretends to be, Gen, Hate Crimes, Humor, M/M, Miami, Post Season 13, Purgatory: The One in Miami, Self-Acceptance, Sometime after season 13, Sort Of, Stanford Era, Supportive John Winchester, The Kardashians - Freeform, Tragedy, Trauma, grand canyon - Freeform, “I want Dean to have a home.”
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 02:19:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13694823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie_Eliza/pseuds/Annie_Eliza
Summary: After the boys wrap up a case that leaves them better off than they have ever been, Sam wonders what’s in store for their future. But when a part of Dean’s past catches up to them, Sam starts to discover what happened to Dean and how much a private tragedy from seventeen years before is holding his brother back.





	As We Stare Down at the Canyon Below

**Author's Note:**

> Just an idea that came to me when I was half asleep. Warnings for recollections of hate crimes against Dean and mentioned LGBTQ original characters. If you like long ass “BM” scenes, you will probably like this. If you don’t, I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Sam rubs a hand across his face as Dean drives around the bend. The sun had just begun to set, its bright, orange light doing a great job of interrupting Sam’s nap through his closed eyelids. 

 

“Want my sunglasses, sleeping beauty?” Dean asks from the driver’s seat. Sam glances over at his smirking brother before reaching over to grab the offering off his face himself. 

 

“Dude,” Dean says, sending Sam a quick glare, “I’m driving. Don’t make sudden movements like that.”

 

“Sorry,” Sam answers, not particularly sorry at all as he slips the glasses on his face before closing his eyes again. 

 

“Yeah, right.” Dean yawns, “You up for food? There’s gonna be more choices in Flagstaff. Although, if you need your precious shut eye, I can keep driving into the glaring sunlight and into the night until you’re rested up enough to eat.”

 

Sam rolls his eyes and suppresses a groan as he forces himself to sit up, “Come on. Give me a break. We drove all the way to Newport Beach for a case and I got thrown into a Palm Tree by a socialite.”

 

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

 

Sam has to laugh a little at his brother’s response, “Last time it was the pillar of a house.”

 

“Still wood,” Dean shrugs, “So, a restaurant in Flagstaff, or whatever we can find that’s open late at night in the middle of nowhere?”

 

Sam smiles and shakes his head, “Well, we did get paid really well from this case.”

 

“‘Bout time,” Dean answers.

 

“I don’t think the amount of cash in our trunk has really hit me yet.”

 

“I can’t believe they wouldn’t let us leave until after they all started calling their banks and their assistants got back. Told you it was worth the trip.”

 

Sam opens and closes his mouth trying to choose his words wisely, “It’s not that I think any of them deserve to die. I don’t. That would be awful. But I didn’t feel compelled to rush halfway across the country to save one of them.”

 

Dean turns his head briefly to give his brother an almost scandalized look, “Kendall had to be saved, man. She has like ten nieces and nephews who need her. And that’s only on Kris’s side. On her dad’s side, there’s like five more…” Dean trails off and thinks for a moment, “If they still call Caitlyn Dad. I don’t know. But what I do know is that, except for maybe Khloe - who I can now officially confirm I have a soft spot for, Kendall has the best head on her shoulders out of all of them.” Dean winces and flips his right hand up slightly off the steering wheel, “Except when there’s a Khan Worm inside of her. Or she’s partnering up with Pepsi.” 

 

As easy as it would be to mock Dean out of shock and amusement, Sam bites his tongue and lets the matter go. He’s not going to touch Dean’s eclectic taste in television with a ten foot pole.

 

He can’t help but stare a bit at his brother though.

 

“What?” Dean asks, “I do my research.” 

 

Sam bites back a smile, nods, and clears his throat, “That you do. We wouldn’t have spotted the problem right off the bat if you didn’t. And because of that, I think we deserve to go somewhere nice after what we went through today. We can apparently afford it now.”

 

Dean lets out a chuckle, “Don’t jinx it.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Dean’s down for a fine cuisine meal for all about four seconds until Sam mentions a place called The Cottage. 

 

“An upscale American cuisine headlines the menu at this cozy, romantic cottage with a tasting menu,” Sam recites from his phone. 

 

Dean gives him a dubious look, “Dude. We don’t need rich tourists thinking we’re a couple. Tourists are the worst. They’re always looking to find themselves by having “meaningful encounters” with strangers these days. They’ll come over and get to talking, then they’ll get to assuming, and before you know it, the candid picture they take of us unexpectedly ends up on their couple run travel blog about how we’re relationship goals.” 

 

Sam dissolves into laughter, “Man, Dean, is that picture of you and Cas still up on that website?”

 

“Last I checked,” Dean answers, stopping at the red light, “You know, it’s really hard to argue with site administrators when they don’t answer their emails. I mean, I wouldn’t have really given a shit if it weren’t for the fugitive thing.”

 

“Well, Jack is guilting Chuck into fixing that for us. The fugitive thing isn’t really a problem anymore,” Sam points out, “So I guess that leaves you with...you know ‘not giving a shit’ if people think you and Cas are a couple then.”

 

To Sam’s surprise, Dean bites his lip, as if he’s biting back a grin, then shrugs, “Sure. Guess that means I don’t give a shit.”

 

It feels like it could be the start of a huge conversation, possibly an invitation to one. Dean’s been in a good mood, they both have been. Mom and Jack are back. Lucifer and Michael are no longer an issue, considering God himself stepped in - despite wanting to continue his hands off approach. They’re seeing Jody and the girls more than ever, becoming mentors and family towards the girls. It’s been good for all of them. But for Cas? They had thought that it might be difficult for him to adjust. The last battle they had before God stepped in left them worse for wear. They had been ambushed by angels. Dean and Cas had got hit with the brunt of it. Cas had been severely hurt, Dean had been choking on his own blood. And instead of healing Dean just enough to get out of the situation and wait for Jack, Cas had used the remainder of his grace to heal Dean completely before passing out and waking up as human. Dean had been completely guilt-ridden over it before going outside to yell at the sky, demanding Chuck to turn Cas back. 

 

And when he finally came around? All Chuck could do was raise his eyebrows and say, “Jack, Gabriel, and I will handle this one. Maybe you should ask him what he actually wants.” 

 

"Huh," Sam answers, "It's good that you don't. Give a shit about what other people think, I mean."

 

Dean pushes on the gas and passes through the intersection when the light turns green, "Figure in the scheme of things, there are a lot bigger things to worry about than people thinking I'm in a relationship. Like where we’re going to eat. You know what? Screw it. We’re going here.”

 

‘Here’ turns out to be reasonably priced but still a lot different than their usual greasy diner cuisine. Busy and colorful, they’re led upstairs to rooftop seating and are both given margaritas within minutes of sitting down at a booth near the wall.

 

“¡Salud!” Dean toasts to him, before downing a third of the umbrella donned drink too quickly.

 

“Brain freeze?” Sam smirks as Dean starts to grip his head and wince. 

 

“Should have gotten beer,” Dean groans, reaching over to grab a warm chip to put in his mouth. 

 

“I’m surprised that you ordered a margarita to begin with,” Sam comments.

 

“Thought I’d try something new. Go all out with a seven dollar drink.”

 

Sam puts his drink down to stir the crushed ice around in the glass, “I don’t think that seven dollars is going all out for us anymore. I’m waiting to get to the car and see it broken into or for the other cosmic shoe to drop-”

 

“Drink your margarita, Sam,” Dean tells him, “Even if this turns out to be some fever dream, we’ll be alright. We always are.”

 

Sam nods distractedly. He can’t help but think about their streak of good luck. And that good luck started before the money they got this morning. For the first time in a very long time, they were almost at peace. Happy. Their blended and eclectic family unit is more stable than it has been in a very long time. Jack has just begun to argue with his grandfather about bringing some of their loved ones back. Cas became _human_ for them and was probably annoying Claire and Jody on a hunt of their own right now. 

 

“You hear from Cas yet?” Sam asks as their appetizers are put in front of them. 

 

Dean nods as he takes a big bite, wiping his fingers on the napkin in his lap before pulling out his phone and handing it over to Sam. “He texted me right before we went over to pull the Khan Worm out of Kendall. Said they handled the ghoul problem in New Hampshire and that Claire’s music was starting to get on his nerves.”

 

**Ghouls are handled. One bit me**  
**on the ankle. I may have bashed**  
**its head in with a shovel. I feel a**  
**sense of guilt. I also find Claire’s**  
**music tastes trying.**

 

**Dude. They were snatching babies.**  
**Living, breathing babies. I would**  
**have done worse. And ask her to**  
**put in the tape I made you.**

 

**I suppose I could. The children are**  
**fine, by the way. Only their mothers**  
**had been consumed. The fathers are in**  
**agony. One mother is as well. Two have**  
**been left orphaned completely. I felt a**  
**connection with one of them. It might have**  
**been because I am the one who ran her**  
**out, but for a nine month old she was**  
**strong-willed. She reminded me of you.**

 

**You calling me a baby, Cas?**

 

**Of course not. But the likeness in**  
**character made me regret that I**  
**couldn’t adopt her and provide a**  
**stable and nurturing environment**  
**for her.**

 

**Sorry to burst your bubble, man.**  
**But we don’t have the money or**  
**paperwork to adopt a kid. Asshole**  
**teenagers are as close as we’re**  
**gonna get.**

 

Sam clears his throat and hopefully hides the amused look on his face when he takes a sip from his drink, “So...you and Cas talk about adoption often?”

 

Dean’s ears turn pink as he glares at Sam across the table. It’s probably for the best Sam didn’t bring up that Dean made Cas a tape too. “Don’t start. No. You know what? You should be more sensitive towards Cas. He became human for us just a couple months ago. Permanently. He doesn’t know what the hell to do with the rest of his life and it’s not my damn job to tell him. It hasn’t been long, but he’s already thinking about his mortality and legacy or whatever the fuck. He’s content hunting for now, but I don’t see him doing it much longer.”

 

Sam squints, “What does he want to do?”

 

Dean shrugs, “I don’t know. Not see blood and destruction for the rest of his life? I can see him taking the Men of Letters route. Researching, training, then making his own curriculum by teaching hunters about compassion or whatever. Maybe he will become a Harvard professor. He’s smart enough to be one. But apparently now he wants a damn family of his own. I think he needs to branch out. Meet other people who can help him maintain enough long term stability for what he wants out of life.”

 

Sam stays quiet for a moment and mulls over what he wants to say carefully. He gauges Dean’s mood before letting himself speak. “Well, we have money now. Money we didn’t have this morning when you were texting him. The hunts we’ve been going on have been routine. We haven’t screwed anything else up to bring on some ancient big bad. We’re...knock on wood, but Dean? We’re doing pretty well.”

 

Dean rubs his eyes before meeting Sam’s again, “What’s your point?”

 

Sam sighs, “I’m just saying. Cas is starting to think about his mortality and legacy and the things that are really important. Maybe we should start thinking of them too. I do think what we’ve done is important. We’ve saved a lot of people. But hunting isn’t the only thing out there. We can cut back or balance out our lives more in a way we never could until now. Besides, aren’t there, I don’t know, things, people, experiences you want to have? Maybe for the first time?”

 

Sam waits for an answer, but doesn’t get one. Dean keeps opening his mouth like he _wants_ to say something but can’t and that kind of sucks because Sam really wants to know what Dean’s thinking right now. Maybe because his own brain isn’t ready to process the new possibilities within his reach for his own life. He didn’t have any current romantic prospects, neither blatant or ignored. He had let himself hope with Eileen, couldn’t help but get his hopes up again now that Jack wants to start bringing the people they love back. But until that happens, he doesn’t have her or anyone else. Yet Dean seems to have both a blatantly obvious and frustratingly ignored profound bond with Cas. Not that Sam can actually say that to his older brother’s face. He’s not sure how aware Dean is of how he comes off when he’s with Cas or, at times, attractive men in general. But with all the time Sam’s spent with him in cramped motel rooms and bars, he feels like he would have caught him with a guy at one point if Dean actually hooked up with men. So Sam can only assume that he doesn’t. 

 

And Sam really isn’t overly involved in his brother’s sex life. He’s not. But the fact that Dean could be repressing a part of himself and has become used to keeping it as some deeply buried secret from the people who care about him makes his heart ache.

 

“...Dean, you know that-”

 

“Dean Winchester?”

 

Both Sam and Dean turn their heads at the inquiry and whatever Sam had been trying to ask gets swallowed by the chef standing in front of them. Sam glances at Dean to see if there’s any recognition on his face and for a second, there’s none. But slowly, Dean’s eyes become big and he seems to tentatively recognize the woman.

 

“Rosa?” he asks slowly, “Here I thought you were going to move out to LA to become a movie star.”

 

Rosa grins and rushes over to give Dean a huge hug, then laughs. “I got as far as Flagstaff. Camped out in Abuela’s guestroom and made it a few blocks further before settling down with a boy and popping out a kid. Now I cook and she wants to be the star. How have you been? Last time we talked wasn’t under the best circumst-”

 

“I know,” Dean interrupts quickly as Sam’s eyes dart back and forth between them, “Yeah, I know. It’s been...It’s been rough on and off but we’re on a good streak right now.”

 

“You two are on a good streak? That’s great!” Rosa smiles kindly, then turns to Sam, “And this one, is he your boyfriend?”

 

It’s far from the first time he and Dean have been mistaken for a couple. At this point, Sam sometimes doesn’t even bother correcting them while it’s Dean who usually gets agitated or flustered. But Sam doesn’t even know how to start describing Dean’s reaction here. It’s almost resigned and nervous.

 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Dean mumbles, “Rosa, meet my brother, Sam. Sam, Rosa.”

 

Rosa nods knowingly, “Ohhh, your brother. Yeah, you used to mention him. Well, hi. I’m Rosa. Dean and I go pretty far back. Your dad knew my dad from the army, I guess. He sent Dean to come help with a vengeful spirit in mine and my brother’s house while we were living in Miami. He teamed up with Mateo, put the damn thing to rest. How long did the three of us live together? I forget.”

 

Sam can’t stop watching Dean shift in his seat, keeping his eyes on the appetizer plate as he answers, “A little over a year, I think.”

 

“Yeah, it was good for a while, wasn’t it?” Rosa smiles before putting her arm around his shoulders, “You’re doing well though?”

 

“Mm-hmm. Doing well,” Dean answers, patting her hand. 

 

Rosa rubs his shoulder and stands at full height, “I’ll bring your orders out myself. And Dean? Thanks for for the flowers you sent back then. I know I wasn’t grateful before. My head wasn’t in the right place. You understand, right?”

 

Dean’s eyes become soft at that point, pained with memories Sam isn’t even privy to, “Yeah, Rosa. I understand better than anyone.”

 

Rosa bites her lip, “Good. See you guys in a few. And Sam, it was nice meeting you.”

 

Sam nods in confusion and stares after her, “Nice meeting you too!”

 

And then he’s immediately turning to Dean, “You lived in Miami for a _year_? What...Dean, why did I not know this?”

 

Dean doesn’t answer. In fact, Sam wonders if Dean actually comprehends the question at all. Because all Dean seems to want to do is stare off into space. 

 

“Earth to Dean,” Sam calls across the table softly, deciding to throw a tortilla chip at his brother’s face. Dean shakes himself out of it soon enough, then meets Sam’s eyes and sighs. 

 

“You were at Stanford,” Dean vaguely explains, picking the chip up off his lap, “You weren’t exactly answering your phone.”

 

Sam has to give him that and he feels a stab of old guilt as he does so. But once he gets past it, he holds his hands up to backtrack, “Wait a second. So Dad just let you live in Miami for a year?”

 

Dean shrugs, “I think he was worried I might up and leave on a bad note if he didn’t. I wouldn’t have but he was...He was pretty damaged by the fight you guys had. He started letting me hunt alone just weeks after you left. About a few months in, he sent me on a case in Miami, I made a few friends and stayed after it was over. I guess he could tell I was having fun because he told me to uh, ‘be young for once and stick around a place for a while.’ He would let me know when he’d need my help on a case and I’d go meet him before heading back. Sometimes he’d stay at our house for a few days here and there. It was a cheap house near the beach. Dad always made comments about how it would get torn apart by a hurricane one day. Would bring supplies over and work on the damn place. But I didn’t stop hunting whenever he wasn’t there. I’d hunt on cases in the southeast on my own or with...look, it doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago. I’m gonna head to the bathroom before our meals get here, alright? Watch my drink.”

 

“Was Rosa your girlfriend?” Sam presses as Dean starts to get up, “She said you guys lived together for a year, that you got her flowers-”

 

“Drop it, Sam,” Dean calls out over his shoulder before leaving Sam alone at the table. 

 

But he can’t. Even as Sam sits there by himself, he can’t take his mind off of Dean’s demeanor, Rosa, the fact that Dean had a damn house and never mentioned a word about any of it. Was he renting it or did he buy a house with these people? Did Dad help him with the funds? He apparently helped him with renovations. Sam isn’t jealous. He isn’t jealous that Dad had let Dean move and find himself or form independence, whatever the goal had been. Sam might have been pissed over it fifteen years ago, but he’s not the same person as he used to be fifteen years ago and Dean certainly isn’t either. 

 

But he’s hurt. Hurt that not a word was ever said about it on their more relaxing nights throughout the years, where they’d drink a little too much beer and watch movies too late, too tipsy and tired to keep the stoicism up. As much as Sam knows about his brother, he had already known that he didn’t know every single thing that ever happened to him - from experiences they both had apart while Sam had been at school to Dean’s year with Lisa to his own year with Amelia and Dean’s year in Purgatory. There were always going to be stories not heard, even when they spoke of some of what had occurred during those times. 

 

But a house on the beach with friends and Dad visiting Dean to spend time with him and help him get his house into shape? That sounded really _nice_. He could see Dean having get togethers and blasting rock music too loud. Getting a job somewhere that would let him move around his schedule enough to accomodate for hunts. Dean had been so excited about the bunker, having a room and a homebase. He never once tried to hide that from Sam. So why would Dean neglect to tell him about this? 

 

“Dinner’s served.” 

 

Sam looks up and sees Rosa standing over him putting their plates down. The food looks great and Sam had been hungry, he supposes he still is, but he’s too confused to want to dig in at this point. 

 

“I never saw my brother as much of a flower guy,” Sam blurts out, which is not the way he planned on getting information about this newly uncovered period of Dean’s life.

 

If Rosa is confused by the statement, she doesn’t show it. She just smiles at him, but still looks a little sad as she does so before shrugging, “He was with my brother.”

 

...What. 

 

What?

 

Sam clears his throat and opens his mouth, but closes it as Rosa continues talking. 

 

“It makes me sad to think that he isn’t a flower guy anymore. He and my brother were head over heels for each other. They would do romantic and sappy shit for each other but be all macho about it. It was hilarious. When Mateo died, I...I should have been nicer to Dean. But he had been my close friend and he just took off to go be with his dad, you know? And I get why. I get that John probably wanted to protect and take care of him. I shouldn’t have held it against Dean. But I wanted him at the funeral, he had been Mateo’s partner and…”

 

Sam’s not even breathing as Rosa trails off. He’s pretty sure he physically can’t from the huge lump lodged in his throat and the sharp pain in his chest and-

 

“Anyway, last time I spoke to him I said some pretty mean things to him. Things I’ve regretted for years. He called to check in on me, ask if the funeral home got the flowers and I just...went off on him. I didn’t mean a lot of the things I said, but I was hurt. But that didn’t make it right because he was hurting _too_ -”

 

Rosa stops herself as soon as she becomes teary, holding up a hand as she forces out a laugh, “I told myself I wasn’t going to do this when I saw him. I wasn’t going to bring up the past with him and ruin his night or even text my husband or my girlfriends. Guess I sort of kept my word. Instead I loaded all of it onto you. Sorry about that. I’ll leave you to your meal.”

 

Rosa starts to walk away but Sam quickly reaches out to gently grab her arm and stop her. “You should uh...let me give you his number. He tends to beat himself up over a lot of stuff. Reconnecting with you might give him some closure. I know my brother.”

 

Except not as well as Sam thought he had.

 

“He’d talk to you.”

 

Rosa hesitates but then finally nods, writing the number on the pad of paper inside her apron. “It was nice meeting you, Sam.” 

 

“Yeah. Yeah, you too.”

 

By the time Dean comes back, Rosa has already gone back down to the kitchen. If Dean had crossed paths with her, he doesn’t make it known. And Sam’s studying his brother pretty damn closely at this point. 

 

“There was a line,” Dean gives as an unprompted explanation once he sits down, “Man, this looks awesome. Rosa always did know how to cook.”

 

Sam bites his lip and suddenly he feels like fucking crying for his brother on top of a crowded rooftop when he told himself to play dumb until they got to a motel. 

 

“...Dean,” Sam chokes out, his voice pitched and strangled as he fails to keep his composure. 

 

Dean looks at him and Sam knows his older brother knows already. Whether Rosa told him what she told Sam in passing or whether Dean quickly figured it out for himself, he knows. 

 

“Not here, Sam.” Dean says, glancing back towards his plate to take another bite of food, “I can’t have this conversation here, alright?”

 

“Which conversation?” Sam dares to ask, “The Miami conversation, the house conversation, or the fact that you lost your-”

 

“Any of them,” Dean interrupts harshly, “I can’t talk about any of it here. Not with all these people around and not when there isn’t more alcohol in me. I won’t do it.”

 

And even though in that moment Sam feels like he needs to know the details more than he needs oxygen, he knows he has to respect him. Respect that Dean needs to choose the place and time and sobriety level before Sam gets to hear those details. He owes his brother that much. 

 

“Alright,” Sam answers, sniffling a little, “Soon though, right?”

 

“Well, I don’t want you to go insane from curiosity and pity,” Dean sighs, “Come on, man. Wipe your eyes with your napkin. People are going to think I dumped you or your dog died or something.”

\---------------------------------------------------

Sam calls dibs on driving once they leave the restaurant. He’s glad he did. As he expected, the car ride is mostly silent. At least this gives him something to do other than focus on the conversation Dean hasn’t started yet. Even though Sam expected the car ride to be silent, it’s been a while since Dean’s been this quiet, save for the times he was unconscious. Even when Dean’s not talking to someone, he’s usually filling the silence somehow. Music’s his main go to and about half the time Dean’s belting out the lyrics anyway. But Dean’s not reaching for the tapes or the radio. All he’s doing is staring out the window at the purple sky. 

 

Sam wants to plead with Dean to say something, anything. But even though he can’t imagine everything Dean’s feeling right now, with being outed by his old boyfriend’s death being brought up and all, Sam can imagine how overwhelmed Dean feels. How painful and potentially frightening this is for him. Focusing on that keeps Sam from focusing on his own emotions. Sadness over how he didn’t know about anything about any of this. Jealousy over how it sounds like his father might have yet Sam didn’t. Sheer curiosity over what kind of guy Mateo was, if he had loved Dean and had been good to him like his brother deserved. Sheer curiosity over how their father reacted, if he had been accepting or if he had been disapproving enough to make Dean hide his sexuality after Mateo died. 

 

He finds a liquor store that’s open off of 180 and pulls into the parking lot. 

 

“What do you want?” Sam asks, turning off the ignition. 

 

Dean’s response is delayed but he does look at him and silently shrugs, “Considering the reason you’re stopping here, it better be pretty damn strong.”

 

Sam breathes out through his nose, “Right. Be back in a few.” 

 

Sam half expects Dean to start drinking the whiskey as soon as Sam pulls back onto the road. But he doesn’t. He just slowly turns the bottle in his hands as Sam drives. 

 

Why Sam decides it is of utmost importance they have this conversation at the Grand Canyon, he’s not sure. All he says to Dean is, “We always say we’re gonna go and we never do. Now’s good of a time as any” before getting out of the Impala. 

 

They hike longer than Sam had been expecting to, but with Dean’s firm grip on the closed liquor bottle, he figures they should get someplace where Dean is less likely to fall off a cliff in a drunken stumble. 

 

The view isn’t so bad either. 

 

“Wow,” Sam can’t help but say as he takes the sight in. Even at the dead of night in the middle of Lebanon, their tiny town in the middle of nowhere, Sam hasn’t seen this many stars. Here? Even in the last stage of dusk, Sam feels like he can see all of them. 

 

“Yeah,” he hears Dean say softly before plopping down on the rock they’re standing on and pulling Sam down with him.

 

“Now?” Sam asks hopefully.

 

Dean cracks open the seal on the bottle and takes a swig, “What the hell do you think?”

 

Sam doesn’t answer. Instead, he props his arms on his knees, laces his fingers together, and stares forward. 

 

“So, you probably figured this part out, but I’m bi.”

 

“I gathered that much, yeah,” Sam answers, not risking a glance towards Dean, “Thanks for telling me, though.”

 

Dean snorts and puts the rim of the bottle to his lips once more, “No problem, jerk.”

 

A few beats of silence pass, neither comfortable or uncomfortable, at least when it comes to Sam. He’s pretty sure this is more nerve wracking for Dean. Sam’s not the one who is going to have to dig up painful parts of his past. He’s not the one coming out. 

 

“...Dean,” Sam starts, clearing his throat, “Dean, you know that you could have told me that years ago and it wouldn’t have changed a thing between us, right? You know that I lo-”

 

“Don’t say the L word.”

 

“But you know that I _do_ , right?” Sam asks, almost pleading, “It doesn’t matter who you’re into, not to me.”

 

“I figured as much,” Dean answers stoically. 

 

“Then why…” Sam trails off, trying to choose his words wisely, “Why did you tell Dad and not me?”

 

Dean meets Sam’s eyes, “What makes you think I told Dad?”

 

Sam shrugs, “You said he came over to visit, helped with your house - which you still need to explain as well. Something Rosa said sealed the deal though.”

 

“Right,” Dean murmurs, “Rosa and her mouth. Although considering Dad _did_ know, I can see why she would assume you would too. Always told you more than I ever told Dad, except when it came to Mateo.”

 

Dean’s voice cracks on the name, as if he’s no longer used to saying it or as if it pains him to. Sam wants to reach out and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder or hold his hand, or maybe he just wants to take the liquor bottle and get a swig in for himself before Dean drinks it all.

 

“I never straight up-” Dean lets out a soft laugh at the accidental pun, “I never _came out_ by putting a label on myself for him. Not officially. But Dad was smart, you know that. Pretty sure his first clue was that I was bartending at a gay nightclub.”

 

Sam does a double take at that, “You were what?”

 

“Purgatory. The one in Miami,” Dean smirks, then clears his throat to do an impression of his younger self, “‘Dad, I’m telling you. I make better tips there than I will anywhere else in the city.’ ‘No shit, Dean, look at yourself. Is that glitter on your cheek?’”

 

Sam stares at his brother, dumbfounded, as Dean shrugs, “The drag queens were always a bit grabby. Protective as hell over me though. I dunno.”

 

“How did you end up getting a job there?” Sam asks.

 

Dean rolls his eyes, “My face ain’t exactly ugly.”

 

“Yeah, okay. I can see your looks partly getting you hired, but how did you find the job?” Sam clarifies.

 

“I went there as a customer?” Dean answers slowly, as if Sam’s dumb, “I went there to hook up with guys, Sam. That was before Mateo and I were official. We got spotted by the manager and he offered us jobs. But before we worked there and before we became serious, sometimes we’d hook up with the same guy, or guys, together-”

 

“I don’t need details,” Sam interrupts quickly, holding up his hand, “Doesn’t matter if it’s guys or girls, I don’t want to hear about your sex life. That hasn’t changed.”

 

Dean looks around in mock confusion, “I thought that’s why you brought me out here.”

 

Sam gives his brother a soft, exasperated look, “Dean, come on.”

 

Dean lets out a breath, “I don’t know where to start, Sam.”

 

“You’ve already started,” Sam points out, “You’ve been doing alright too.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Dean shrugs helplessly, rubbing a hand over his face, “I only talked about Mateo twice since he died. Once to Rosa, and that was cut off real quick, and once to Dad. That didn’t end well either.”

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sam asks harshly, “I thought you said Dad _knew_. What do you mean it didn’t end well?-”

 

“Woah,” Dean stops him, reaching out to ground Sam by putting a hand on his arm, “Don’t jump to conclusions. Dad made it out of the conversation without becoming a dick. It was me who was the mess. Let me start from the beginning, alright?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam agrees, “That might be for the best.”

 

“I met Mateo on a hunt,” Dean starts, “His and Rosa’s house - their dad's, actually - was being haunted by a vengeful spirit. It appeared out of nowhere. You know, same old shit. Dad knew Mateo’s dad from the Marines, but that was a coincidence? Like a genuine one, not one of the fake ‘coincidences’ we tend to have happen to us. Anyway, I salt and burn the bones, doesn’t end up working and the ghost knocks me out by throwing me into a wall. Mateo bursts in and grabs my shotgun, shoots the damn thing up with rock salt before it kills me. It had already killed Mateo’s stepmother. Long story short, Mateo’s stepmother killed her sister and had a lock of her hair. So Mateo’s stepmom’s death wasn’t as tragic as it was originally believed. We find out where the hair is, burn it, and Mateo proclaims he knew there had been something fucked up about his dad’s new wife-

 

“This is the strangest hookup story I’ve ever heard,” Sam mutters, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. 

 

“No, believe me, there’s weirder,” Dean mentions but does not elaborate, “But yeah, case was over. I could have headed out at that point. But Mateo’s mom had left him and his sister a beach house when she died from cancer and Rosa was working overnight at the diner she waitressed at. He said I could sleep over and get some rest, but he was cute so we didn’t really sleep. Before I knew it, a few days had passed. Dad’s blowing up my cell, asking me if I wrapped up the case. I told him I had, but got ballsy and asked if there were any cases I absolutely had to go to. Said I could use a break. I don’t know if it was because you had left or because Mateo was doing unspeakable things with his tongue-”

 

“Dean, please.”

 

-But I wanted to stay for a while longer,” Dean finishes, his somewhat aloof demeanor still in place but his words were becoming slightly loose, “Pretty sure Dad didn’t know about the tongue thing at the time, although he might have expected it had to do with Mateo later on. In that moment though, I think he was scared. Like I said, Sammy. He regretted that fight he had with you as soon as you left. I think he was terrified he might fuck up enough that he’d end up alone. So he said I should stay for a while, hang out in a city and be young or somethin’. I figured he meant another week, but I think he meant longer. Maybe not a year like it ended up being, but I think he wanted to sort of fix the mistake he had made with you by giving a bit of freedom to me without an ultimatum.”

 

“Must have been nice,” Sam answers, feeling less bitter than he expected. 

 

Dean stops to judge Sam’s mood and Sam gives him a nod to go on. 

 

“Right. It was. Nice, I mean. Mateo and I were sleeping in the same bed every night within the first week, but we were still hooking up with other people. I mixed it up - girls and guys. Mateo was gay, so he just got with men. But we got with each other the most. We spent a lot of time together and talked, it wasn’t just sex. But then we started becoming jealous of the other people we were hooking up with, I guess. Started becoming monogamous after about a month. Our relationship became...sweeter then. We were almost constantly seeing each other, except when I was hunting. But he came on a few hunts. He was a natural but when I started caring about him more, bringing him with me scared the crap out of me. He was in school though. A med student. Super smart. He didn’t have much time to come on hunts, but he’d make sure he was at the house to tend to my cuts and bruises when I’d come back.”

 

Dean takes a breath and Sam doesn’t dare interrupt him because as much as Dean talks, he rarely reveals this much. Ever. 

 

“Dad visited for the first time after I had been there about two months. I had seen him before that, but I met him for a case. He didn’t really like Florida and Miami was too busy for his liking. But he came. Stayed on the pull-out couch. I mean, there were only two bedrooms in that place and only one queen sized bed in our room and in Rosa’s room. He had to know from the beginning. I told him that _I_ usually slept on the pull-out couch but I was graciously giving it to him and that I’d just sleep on an air mattress in ‘Mateo’s’ room. Three days in, after he’s already found out I work at Purgatory, Dad opens the closet in the living room, sees the air mattress that’s never been taken out of the box, and says, ‘You look well-rested for someone who’s been sleeping on a hardwood floor.’ I have no idea what to say to him, I’m practically breaking out into a sweat. But he doesn’t make another comment, doesn’t ask me anything, he just looks at me for a solid ten seconds, then says he’ll be back down in a few weeks. He’s going to help me and Mateo replace the shutters. And that’s how visits were from him. He knew. I didn’t flaunt it in front of him, but he walked in on me and Mateo in bed together. We weren’t, you know, doing anything - Thank God - but we were both shirtless. Yet Dad comes in and is just like, ‘Both of you, get out of bed. We’re working on the roof today, and then I’m taking you boys out for lunch if you don’t goof off. Pretty sure he walked in on us making out in the kitchen another time but pretended he didn’t see anything. I didn’t know what to make of it.”

 

“So he didn’t get weird about it,” Sam states. 

 

Dean gives him a strange look, “Sam, have you been listening to anything I’ve been telling you? He was weird about it the whole entire time.”

 

Sam snorts out a laugh at that, almost hysterically, “You know what I mean. He wasn’t completely disapproving. He didn’t get pissed.”

 

Dean shrugs and looks at the ground, “Guess not. He wasn’t waving a pride flag or anything, but he didn’t automatically hate me. The only time I saw him react to anything regarding that part of my life was when some asshole spit at me and Mateo as we were walking down the street. Called us faggots. Dad got the guy on the ground so fast that I didn’t have time to stop him. All I could do was tell him the guy wasn’t worth it. That Mateo and I were used to it, working where we did. There were guys who would try to jump us. I didn’t want Mateo taking shifts without me. We’d walk guys back to their places if they felt really nervous. Young guys would just sit at the bar after we’d close, waiting so they didn’t have to walk alone. Mateo and I formed a reputation of sorts because of it. People knew our faces. The whole ‘laying low’ thing flew out the window in Miami. I got jumped by a bunch of guys a few months before Mateo died. Held my own, considering being completely outnumbered, but got knocked out and ended up waking up in the hospital a day later with busted up ribs, a bad concussion. Mateo had been sitting there all night, upset that I had taken an extra shift and walked back alone, said that Dad was driving in from Missouri and that they could have done worse or I could have died if it weren’t for a drag queen mob chasing the guys off and calling an ambulance. It wasn’t one of my more triumphant moments.”

 

Sam shifts on the rock, feeling sick over the fact that Dean was the victim of a damn hate crime, that he could have lost his brother to a violence outside of hunting. His brother’s right here next to him and he’s _fine_. Despite the near deaths, successful deaths, monsters, and grief related suicidal tendencies, his brother is healthy and doing fine. But he could have died. And that’s something that had always been on his mind when he had been at school. Debilitating fear that he’d get that call telling him his dad or brother were gone for good probably kept him from wanting to keep his number the same to begin with. 

 

“Dad wanted me to quit my job there,” Dean continues, “Said it was suicide to keep working at Purgatory if I was being targeted, which is pretty damn ironic to say now. He drove all night to get to the hospital after Mateo called him, so he was running on fumes and rambling. Started talking about if I wanted to be working in a gay bar or a part of that community, then Mateo and I should get a place for ourselves up in New York, that he had a couple of connections up there who might be able to get us an okay deal in such a damn expensive city. And you know how Dad felt about New York. He hated it yet wanted me to move to Greenwich Village or somewhere else super gay. I was on pain meds and loopy so I wasn’t avoiding the conversation like I would have, probably said some things but I don’t remember what. I remember brushing it off though. I liked working there. I hated most of the music and some of the guys who came in were gross, but I liked most of the people. They were uh...interesting, I guess. Different than who you’d see in most other places. I liked the city even though it was too hot, I liked the house. I didn’t want to leave.”

 

Sam has mostly been keeping his eyes on the view throughout Dean’s story, only glancing at him from the corner of his eye every so often unless he has something to say himself. But then looks away and sniffles and Sam has to look. His brother isn’t crying, but it looks like he _might_ and that’s enough to make Sam feel guilty for making Dean talk.

 

“Dean, you alright?” He asks cautiously. 

 

Dean doesn’t nod or shake his head or give him any kind of indicator otherwise. Instead, he just rasps out, “I should have listened to Dad. I thought he was just spewing out half-baked ideas - ones that came from him being angry and tired and worried. He was right though. Mateo and I should have up and moved if I was going to keep having a homebase. Things died down after they attacked me, died down enough for us to let our guards down, for us to take shifts separately. Mateo was sick one night with the flu. Rosa was pulling another overnight shift and I decided that I could earn some good tips Friday night, that we might need the money if Mateo needed the time off. I got back to the house at 2 am and it was up in flames. Mateo burned to death before he could do anything. I...I remember calling Dad and I was so fucking confused, then I broke and said Yellow Eyes burned down my house. He burned down the last one so that was the only thing that made sense to me at the time. Dad was interrogating me on the phone, but I guess my answers weren’t making sense. He asked me to put Mateo or Rosa on the phone, told me to go stay with their dad and that he’d be there soon. I didn’t want to be around anyone though. I got a motel room with my tip money, stunk of smoke. Dad found me sooner than I thought he would. Turns out he flew down. I was muttering about how we needed to kill the bastard who killed Mom, who killed Mateo. Dad’s tryin’ to talk me down. He’s saying how it was humans who killed Mateo. Humans who burned down the house. Said that they were monsters but not our monsters to fight. That didn’t make sense to me and I didn’t like the answer because even though I didn’t bring Yellow Eyes to Mateo, it was still my fault. I could have listened to Dad and got him out of the city, you know?”

 

“Dean,” Sam chokes out, swallowing, “Dean, it wasn’t your fault. You _know_ that wasn’t your fault now, right?” 

 

Dean shrugs, “Yeah. Maybe now, I do. Then though, I was out of my head. And when Dad said we couldn’t kill them, that it wasn’t my battle to fight, fuck, I was screaming and crying and couldn’t fucking stop. Dad’s holding onto me with that death grip he had, the one he’d put us into when one of us had a close call. He kept saying, ‘I’m so sorry, son. I’m so sorry.’ And I couldn’t figure out why he was apologizing, because he wasn’t the one who left Mateo alone. Wasn’t the one who let his sick boyfriend take care of himself. Dad said he was worried about where my head was at, told me we were leaving and would stay with Pastor Jim for a while.”

 

Dean lets out a sigh and wipes at his wet face, “After Dad died, it became easier to be pissed at him for the shitty things he did. Leaving us alone for weeks, leaving me at a boys’ home, drinking too much, dragging us into this life. But Sam? When I came to get you at Stanford, accepting me and caring for me the way that he did after Mateo died was still at the front of my mind, even though a couple of years had passed since then. But he stuck with me through my anger and my grief. And fuck, Sam. I was so angry for a while. Dad drank too much one night and called me a one man gay militia, told me I was getting too radical. And then after that anger faded, I was fucking scared. I didn’t need another thing destroying my life, killing the people I cared about. And shit man, I acted all proud before Mateo died but there were things that scared me, things I was seeing and hearing about first hand working where I did. Hate crimes, HIV and AIDS, I even thought about how shitty politics were more than usual. So I only dated women after that, if you could call it dating. Cassie and Lisa are the only ones who lasted longer than a night. Cassie and I dealt with some racist comments, but I figured I could handle that better. Didn’t matter since we didn’t last long. Lisa’s life was almost destroyed because I was in it. I’m not meant to be in any type of relationship. I’m fuckin’ poison.”

 

Dean suddenly stands up on shaky legs and Sam quickly gets to his feet. He doesn’t let himself mull the decision over, he just acts completely on instinct when he grabs his brother and brings him in for a fierce hug. 

 

“You’re not poison,” Sam says over Dean’s shoulder, his voice choked up, “You’re _not_. You deserve to be happy. More than anyone I know. Thank you for telling me about Mateo, and about Dad too. I’m glad he was there for you when I wasn’t. I wish I could thank him for being a good dad to you when you really needed him.”

 

Dean awkwardly pats Sam on the back and lets out a put upon sigh, “He wasn’t always. I’ve had a lot of shit to sort through when it came to him. But he came through when I really needed him, cared for me in a way a lot of parents might not. Thanks for reminding me of what he did for me back then. It’s a time I don’t like to think about much.”

 

It takes Sam a few seconds, but he forces himself to let go of Dean in order to give his brother some space. 

 

“You deserve to be happy, Dean,” Sam says as he turns to look out onto the horizon once more, “Our lives might be easier now that we have two million dollars in our trunk, but that money’s worth as much as it would be thrown at the bottom of the canyon if we hold the people we care about at an arm’s length. The Kardashians knew that. That’s why they were throwing money at us when we saved Kendall.” 

 

“Sam, I’m the one who watches the damn show and even I know that’s a horrible analogy,” Dean snorts. 

 

“My point still stands. So you should change your life for the better. Be the person you’re meant to be and keep helping people, whether it’s through hunting or through mentoring the girls or adopting a few kids with Cas. Going by your texts with him, that might make him happy too.” 

 

“Hmm.” 

 

Sam waits for the sputtering denials and outrage but it never comes. “That’s it? ‘Hmm?’ You’re not shocked about me knowing at all?” 

 

Dean rolls his eyes before meeting Sam’s, the cold canyon air tinting Dean’s breath as he exhales. 

 

“Come on, Sam. With your comments and knowing looks anytime I bring up Cas? Your assumptions aren’t exactly _subtle_.”

 

And really? After Sam stops gaping like a fish at Dean’s statement, he laughs. A full on belly laugh because Dean calling him out on his lack of subtlety is too damn priceless. 

 

“So you’ll do it? When we get back to the bunker, you’ll talk to him?” Sam asks, sobering up. 

 

Dean bites his cheek and sits back down on the rock, pulling Sam down next to him once more. “Give me a few minutes.” 

 

Sam nods and throws an arm around his brother’s shoulder, both of them staring ahead at the night sky. With everything they’ve faced, Sam could give him that. 

 

They have time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! And thank you to tfw_cas for being my beta!


End file.
